


Moving Violation

by Otonymous



Category: MLQC: Fandom, love and producer, 恋与制作人 | Liàn Yǔ Zhì Zuò Rén | Mr. Love: Queen's Choice (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Public Transportation, Spoilers, Strangers, Vaginal Fingering, public fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21637351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otonymous/pseuds/Otonymous
Summary: Public transportation gets a lot more exciting when a gorgeous stranger decides to give you a hand.
Relationships: Líng Xiào (Liàn Yǔ Zhì Zuò Rén | Mr. Love: Queen's Choice)/You, 凌肖/You
Comments: 21
Kudos: 89





	Moving Violation

**Author's Note:**

> The story contains SPOILERS for chapter 17-1 ONLY. If you don’t want to be spoiled at all, now would be a good time to stop reading LOL. 
> 
> As soon as this guy made an appearance in the game, you know I had to write for him. The events in this story are based off chapter 17-1; I just added my own smutty take on things. Please note the potential trigger warnings in the tags above, and happy reading! 
> 
> Nb. Lyrics taken from Green Day's "Holiday" are marked with an asterisk.  
> (song written by Michael Pritchard / Frank Wright / Billie Joe Armstrong. © Warner Chappell Music, Inc)

_Clang._

The metal links of a wallet chain hit the steel trim of the seat beside yours, the sound so jarring it immediately pulled you from your thoughts. Turning your gaze from the window, your senses are assailed: 

Hair that fell in devil-may-care directions over features all at once delicate and masculine — lavender grey, like the colour of a gathering storm, accentuated with silver like streaks of lightning blazing across an unsettled sky.

Metal studs embellishing a black leather jacket brushing against your arm, cool and sharp even through the sleeve of your cardigan, making you press closer to the side of the bus on instinct.

A hint of cinnamon, spicy and sweet each time the bubble in his mouth deflated with an audible pop, only to reemerge after a few subtle movements of a defined jaw and the push of his tongue through a thin, pink membrane.

And although the vehicle lurched forward each time the lead-footed driver stepped on the gas, the young man managed to keep his skateboard balanced against the back of the seat in front, the underside of its deck covered in a dizzying array of colourful but faded decals. Worn and treasured, like the mp4 player he suddenly produced from the pocket of his jacket, elegantly long digits in fingerless leather gloves fiddling with dials whose details had rubbed off long ago.

The stranger leans back in his seat, long legs spreading wide until one brushes the hem of your skirt…waves of heat emanating from the skin of his knee beneath ripped denim to send tingles up the bare flesh of your thigh.

Brows furrowed, you stare sharply in his direction from the corner of your eye. You had done your best to ignore that twinge of annoyance when he first chose to sit next to you on an otherwise empty bus. Brushed it off when it grew with the knock of his shoulder into yours. But the continued rubbing of his knee against your thigh — each bump of the rough ride sending it higher up your leg — was something you found unsettling. And stimulating.

Nonplussed by your reaction to the invasion of personal space, the stranger fits buds into ears boasting several piercings each, thumb tapping the scratched up player until all you could hear was the tinny refrain of Green Day rocking at insanely high volume over his headphones: 

**“I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies**  
**This is the dawning of the rest of our lives**  
**On holiday…”***

Suddenly, perfect eyebrows arch over amber eyes that train on yours to transform your annoyance into surprise. He leisurely looks you up and down, tongue sweeping over the edges of white teeth as he does…slow, as if considering some complicated calculation. Then, as the corners of his lips pull up into a devastatingly handsome smirk, you are similarly devastated to find yourself incredibly turned on by a man you knew absolutely nothing about. 

Removing an earbud, the beautiful stranger slides up even closer to whisper in your ear, “Wanna listen?”

His voice is deep and playful, the heat of his breath electric on your skin and charged with an eroticism that effectively shuts down any protests you may have had. So you let him carefully position the bud in your ear, feeling goosebumps bloom wherever he touched, guitar riffs accompanying fingertips that drag from your lobe to your neck, traversing your shoulder and down your arm…before finally coming to rest on the top of your thigh.

Nipples hardening beneath the lace cups of your bra, you tense at the embarrassing possibility of your arousal being on full display through the thin front of your blouse. He slides his arm around your shoulder in response, pulling you flush against his side as the undertones of that husky voice switch from teasing to a soothing coo:

“Baby, relax. Just focus on the music, yeah?”

The hand on your leg begins to move, inching up your skirt, fingers tracing circles as they caress the skin of your inner thigh — so sensitive he grinned to watch you twitch at the sensation of his nails grazing flesh as he sought the moist warmth in the space between.

Soft lips smooth across the line of your jaw, the stranger's voice dropping even lower, as if revealing some illicit secret: _“Focus on how good my fingers will make you feel.”_

That beautiful face nuzzles into the nape of your neck, and you feel his chest expand against your arm when he breathes in deep — his exhalation masking the gasp you failed to contain when the tip of his finger made its first brush across your clit, swollen beneath a layer of silk.

Already impossibly hot, you glance at your surroundings once more to ensure you were the only two passengers on the bus during the early morning commute. You wondered if the driver heard your shuddering pants as the young man played with your pussy over your panties, wondered if he could smell the heady musk of arousal that was surely suffusing the immediate vicinity.

Wondered if he noticed the spread of your legs from that distance in the rear view mirror, growing wider in response to the lust that glazed over amber eyes to hold you captive.

Suddenly, the stranger retracts his large hand, its absence leaving the space between your legs cool and wanting. Past the point of caring about masking your desperation, you implore the stranger with a look that dripped with need. He smirks, eyes crinkling with mischief as he winks at you before proceeding to lick his digits — pink tongue swirling about the index…middle…then ring finger in excruciatingly slow turn.

To your relief, he brings his hand down once more. But this time, your panties are roughly pulled aside before you feel those spit-moistened fingers sliding along your folds and glancing at your clit…exploring bare flesh. At first contact, you hear the breath hitch in his throat. Hear the thick arousal even he couldn’t hide behind teasing banter when he says, “Looks like I didn’t need to lube up my fingers after all. Guess this excites you more than you let on.”

You couldn’t even argue, nor did you want to. Lips parting as shaky lungs drew in much needed air, your head falls back, the black cord of your shared headphones the only thing grounding you to reality when it pulls taut against your movement. A reminder that although his fingers sent you to the heights of ecstasy with the way they plunged in and out of your pussy — almost frictionless with how turned-on you were — you still had your skirt bunched up and legs spread wide on a public bus in broad daylight, a complete stranger’s talented fingers fucking you so hard and fast your thighs trembled and your underwear became a soaking mess, absorbing slick moisture that dripped in copious amounts.

**"This is the dawning of the rest of our lives...”***

The music crescendoed just as the tension in your body swelled to breaking point, the thumb rubbing circles about your clit relentless like the fingers diving deep to push you over the edge of desire.

All of a sudden, the bus lurches as the driver slams on the brakes. Momentum continuing to drive your body forward like a rag doll, the muscular arm around you tenses to keep you from smashing face first into the seat in front. But the driver’s careless technique had another unintended consequence: the young man’s fingers drove even deeper inside you at _just_ the right angle to make you fall apart completely. Spasming within his embrace, you thought nothing of burying your face into his chest to bite at his collarbone through his shirt, trying to muffle your screams.

“Sorry about that! Everyone ok back there?" Still descending from a higher plane of bliss, the driver’s voice seems so far removed.

“Yeah man, just take it easy next time," the stranger shouts back, fingers leaving a wet trail along the inside of your thigh as he finally pulls out from your trembling body.

He makes a show of examining his fingers, slick under the warm rays of sunlight filtering in through the window behind you. But nothing compared to the heat in your cheeks when he traced his lips with the tip of his index, the shiny coat of arousal accentuating pink flesh before his tongue swept out to savour every last drop.

And as the bus pulls up to the next stop — much more smoothly this time around — the handsome stranger leans in close, removing the headphone from your ear before he says, 

“Sweet, just the way I like it. Be seein’ you around."  
  
Readjusting his earbuds, he tucks his skateboard under one arm, amber eye winking at you beneath lavender grey strands one last time before he exits, the sound of his skateboard hitting the pavement the last thing you hear before the pneumatic doors shut and you slump back in your seat.

_You didn’t even know his name._

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what? We STILL don't know his name in the English server LOL!


End file.
